Magic
by The Legend of Chocolate
Summary: [One-Shot] "And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." ― Roald Dahl - implied ContestShipping


_An old scrap from deviantART. Edited quite heavily for a reposting on FanFiction._

_Done for the Key Signature Competition: C major (and C minor if you squint) on Ebaz's **Pokémon Fanfiction Challenges** forum._

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****Pokémon.**

* * *

**Magic**

_Pokémon - Rated: K+ - English - Family/Angst - 100 Themes: 62 - May/Haruka & Drew/Shuu_

* * *

"Ms Maple," the teacher interrupted, not unkindly, but with a hint of disgust lining her words. "There is something very wrong with your daughter's head."

Deathly silence._  
_

"I beg your pardon?" May Maple inquired coldly, her muscles instinctively tensing up, as if gearing up for a fight. However, she frantically tried to soothe her agitated nerves. There would be no war today, she reminded herself. This meeting would not end like the previous time, with shredded paperwork strewn haphazardly across the floor, the principal drenched in coffee and a malfunctioning printer that could only be kickstarted by literally kicking it at a certain extremely random and awkward angle.

Narrowing her crimson-pink eyes, Roxanne Tsutsuji leaned forward and interlaced her fingers, probably hoping it would lend an intimidating air to her stern expression. From May's leisurely and definitely not intimidated position, she allowed her ocean-blue eyes to rake over the older woman's face swiftly, scanning for any signs of giving up. Despite the teacher's ramrod-straight posture and sharp eyes, she could already detect the weariness emanating from her. Excellent. May wasn't sure how much longer she could play out that suave, arrogant facade.

Tapping her fifth finger rhythmically against the polished mahogany desk, Roxanne replied, "I'm sorry to come out so matter of fact, Ms Maple-"

"Mrs Hayden," May corrected tersely. Roxanne's eye twitched slightly.

"Forgive me for coming out so matter of fact, 'Mrs Hayden'," she continued without sounding even a least bit sorry, "but I've been wanting to talk to you face to face for a few weeks now, and each time I've only managed to reach your voice mail-"

"That would probably be because of an accident Rose had a while back," May once again interjected, ignoring the teacher, who seemed to be immensely irritated by then. "I don't know how she did it, but somehow all incoming calls to our home was redirected to the voice mail machine, and no matter how many times we tried to change it back, we couldn't."

"That is not the point!" Roxanne scoffed derisively. "Your daughter Rose's behaviour in school lately has been troubling me, and I wanted to affirm that all is well with your home situation. I understand that her father, your d- ah, late fiancé passed away before she was born, am I wrong?"

Instantly, she could tell that she had struck a nerve. The brunette stiffened abruptly, her eyes widening in shock for a split second before the brilliant blue orbs narrowed into slits. "That," she replied curtly through gritted teeth, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice, "is none of your business."

Arching an eyebrow, Roxanne continued as if she had never been interrupted, "As your fiancé passed away before Rose was born, it goes without saying that she never knew her father. Thus, it is possible that the distinct lack of a fatherly figure in your household has crippled her development. Somewhere along the line, Ms Maple," May subconsciously clenched her fist tightly underneath the table until her knuckles turned white, "your daughter began... acting strangely."

Blinded by fury, May acted on instinct and leapt to her feet, slamming her hand forcefully against the desk. A container of stationery positioned at the corner of the desk rattled in its place and a stack of papers neatly arranged at the side shifted several millimetres to the left, but Roxanne barely flinched. It was evident from her calm composure that she had dealt with many similar situations before, but as adrenalin started coursing through her veins, May felt her face suffusing with blood. Anger was rising through her faster than ever before, and she didn't know - or want - to control it.

"Are you implying," she hissed, venom dripping ominously from each word, "that I'm incompetent in bringing up my daughter?"

"Oh, that's not what I meant at all!" Roxanne shook her head earnestly, a calm, professional smile fixed on her face. Aghast, May looked at her, anger gradually draining away and being replaced by confusion.

"But-"

"Have a seat, Mrs Hayden, and I'll explain."

May rested her palms gingerly on the table and lowered herself back into the seat, still panting slightly from her uncharacteristic outburst, the first traces of curiosity stirring within her...

* * *

"It's snowing!" yelled a young girl as she dashed out of the school, proceeding to twirl around animatedly.

Indeed, it was snowing. Powdery globules were falling in light sprinkles from the sky, gently fluttering about like butterflies as they landed gracefully onto random spots on the ground. Sunlight filtered softly through the thick tree canopies, casting a luminescent glow onto the frosty spheres as they descended in a captivating dance.

"Rose, come back! You'll get frostbite!" a red-haired woman called frantically from the entrance of the school building, reluctant to venture out into the snow-covered land. A chilly draft seeped in between the crack of the door, colliding with the welcoming warmth that enveloped the hallway. The thirty-three-year-old shivered and wrapped her azure-blue coat tightly around her, then pulled up the velvety fabric to cover her mouth. "Rose!" she shouted, her frustration-tinged voice muffled by the fluffy material.

Rose, however, paid no heed to her constant calls and continued twirling around in the space. A maniacal giggle escaped her cherry-pink lips as she darted forward and extended a slightly trembling palm. Seconds later, a miniature snowflake descended onto her outstretched palm, and she couldn't help but shiver as the icy surface made contact with her skin. The contrast between the two temperatures was so sharp that the delicate snowflake began to melt almost immediately, but not before she could admire the intricately woven design and marvel at the delicacy and thinness it.

A third girl joined Misty at the hallway, her high-heeled boots clattering loudly across the marble floor. The girl with luscious flaming hair swivelled around to greet her, raising her eyebrow questioningly as her azure blue eyes took in her dishevelled appearance. The brunette ripped off her wooly hat and shook the powder-like flakes off snow off her sleek strands of chocolate-brown hair.

"Have you been outside already, Leaf? I didn't see you," Misty remarked. Leaning forward, she brushed the thin layer of snow coating her jacket off.

Leaf glanced up to meet her eyes, her own hazel orbs glinting with mischief. "I stole Gary's Pokédex and lobbed it out of the window for him to chase. Then he started pelting me with snowballs, and…" Her words trailed off as she collapsed onto the ground, giggling uncontrollably.

Sighing in exasperation, Misty tucked her hair behind her ear and sniffed disdainfully. "You're still acting so childishly, even as a married adult. When will you kids finally grow up?" she muttered under her breath, then clasped her gloved hand over her mouth when she realised that she had actually quoted Iris. Great. The cold must be getting to me, she thought with a huff.

Casting an idle gaze around the school compound, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. All their friends (dressed in relatively light clothing, to her great disapproval) were creating a ruckus outside, whipping up a snow-white flurry. Apparently, the arrival of winter had invoked the child within even the most adults. Even notorious ex-student of the academy Paul Shinji was present, and he was known for his attendance – or lack thereof – at social events.

There, however, was one person missing.

"Hey… Where's Rose?"

Leaf followed her gaze and gasped in shock upon noticing that the student with chestnut-brown hair had disappeared. The spot where she had been twirling mere moments ago was empty, occupied only by footprints left in the white blanket. As a sickening sensation of dread slowly seeped in, she found her hands moving on autopilot – reaching into her pocket and whipping out her smartphone.

"I'll notify May. Quick, go search for her!"

* * *

His pale, slender hand caressed the snow coating the ground lightly. To anyone else, it would've seemed as if he had a strange obsession with the ground, and that person would then make it a point to steer clear of the deranged lunatic – however, they didn't stick around long enough to see what he saw.

As if his touch had ignited life within it, when his skin so much as lifted from the chilling surface, the mound of snow he had come into contact with quivered slightly. Within moments, the snow parted to reveal a tiny shoot tinted mint green, and, trembling slightly, two short spring-green leaves unfurled themselves. Minute droplets of dew were sprinkled over them, as if the young plant had been there all along, and they glistened with a natural beauty as narrow rays of sunlight struck them.

Now, one might look away at this point, scoffing and believing the near-miracle to somehow be a fluke, but all doubt would undoubtedly fade away once they witnessed the wondrous event that followed. Instead, within seconds of the leaves' appearance, the shoot shot up drastically; the seed leaf fell off, no longer required for survival, and the plant's growth escalated so rapidly it was impossible. While such natural processes would usually take numerous weeks, even months to complete, this plant had matured into an adult plant in less than a hundredth of that time.

In the winter, a fully bloomed rose framed with complex layer after layer of blood red petals stood amidst the dull sea of red and white.

Satisfied with his artwork, the man shifted his attention away from the mysteriously blooming flower, instead raising his head slightly to meet the eyes of his companion.

"How did you do that?" The girl's question was ejaculated in a brisk and businesslike manner. No chitchat, no beating around the bush – sharp, concise and straight to the point. Her eyes were captivating; the emerald orbs sparkled in the dull sunlight that always accompanied the lighter days of winter. Many people, he knew, would instantly compliment the striking colour, but his interest was purely centered on her intense stare. Even at her youthful age, she knew what she wanted, and would stop at nothing to get it.

Just like her mother.

Lips tilting up in a cocky smirk, he chose the answer that most kids would accept as fact. "Magic."

Frustration coursing through her, the little girl named Rose stomped her foot. "That's not an answer!"

The man chuckled softly. "Believe me, you wouldn't believe me even if you did know the answer. You'd think I was a lunatic."

It wasn't until then that Rose noticed how pale he was. His skin could easily be considered alabaster white, with a perfect complexion to rival Edward Cullen's. She didn't know who Edward was, or why he sparkled in the sunlight like a fairy, only that her godmother Leaf was simply obsessed with him. Every time she dropped in to babysit (she was seven, she didn't need to be babysat!), the brunette would stealthily allow her to sneak a peek at Twilight posters. Her mother strongly disapproved of that story, but Leaf would always find a way to do so, even subtly winking her at conspiringly at random intervals as if to remind her of their rendezvous. Currently, Rose was unimpressed, but she wasn't stupid enough not to note that anyone who crossed Leaf would become her new taxidermy experiment test subject.

"I've seen you around before," Rose accused, but he either didn't hear or pretended not to hear.

"What's your name?" The man's twinkling fluorescent green eyes shone unnaturally bright.

At this stage, Rose hesitated. The one rule that had been drilled into her brain ever since she could remember: Don't talk to strangers drifted into her mind. She could visualise her mother wagging her index finger at her, her eyebrows furrowed sternly, and repeating that statement over and over again to prevent her from making 'a grave mistake'. Then again, that man with messy lime-green hair swept across his forehead didn't seem like much of a threat…

* * *

"I've noticed, Mrs Hayden," Roxanne said tersely, "that your daughter can often be found deep in conversation with the air around her-"

"Well, that's wonderful!" May snapped, her voice flat. "She has enough imagination to conjure up a playmate of her own!"

"That's my point..." The teacher hesitated infinitesimally before taking on a different tone. "She doesn't play with the person; her conversations are mostly melancholic, calm and mature. It's almost like... she's talking to a ghost."

* * *

Against her will, Rose found herself answering his question in a clear voice tinged with apprehension, "Roseline. I hate that name, though. Everyone calls me Rose."

"Well, aren't you supposed to be in school, Rose?"

"Not really. My mother is having a meeting with my teachers," the girl replied, dragging out a few syllables just for the fun of it. After a while, the adrenalin rush had begun to dissipate, leaving her to fully 'appreciate' the blistering cold. Even worse, for some reason, the man was emanating an intense chill. However, she didn't back away, ignoring the shivers that ran down her spine and the goose bumps gradually forming on her skin. "Thank Arceus for the holidays. I hate school."

Her bluntly blurted statement was greeted with a wide grin. "I used to hate school, too. You have no idea the joy I felt the day I graduated and was free to begin my journey. How old are you?"

She paused for a moment, contemplating her options, before deciding that she saw no reason not to answer. "Nine."

Long locks of lush lime-green hair hung over his face, partially obscuring his otherwise fairly handsome features. Rose thought he looked strange – his smile was suddenly strained and set in a thin line, as if he was struggling to maintain his cheerful façade.

"Where's your father?" he whispered. "You haven't mentioned him." Judging by the way he inclined his head away from her, she hazarded a guess that he wasn't too keen on hearing the answer.

"He's dead. He died before I was born."

* * *

"That's not possible," the brunette muttered, clasping her hands to the sides of her head. "That's not possible!"

"It is," Roxanne retaliated calmly. "And we will help both of you through it. May I recommend a child psychologist, very experienced-"

"I need to see Rose!" the mother screamed, rising from her seat in a frenzied descent into derangement. "_Now!_"

* * *

_"He's dead. He died before I was born."_

Those words, completely devoid of emotion, sounded so wrong, so harsh coming out of such an innocent young girl's mouth that the man flinched slightly. Her voice was high and detached, and she sounded so flippant, as if naïve even to the concept of death.

She could've sworn that she saw his eyes well up with tears. At least, that was what it looked like, since those green spheres glittered for several moments.

Then he blinked, and the moment was over.

Amazed at his dramatic reaction, Rose shot him a tentative, unperturbed smile. "Hey, mister, don't be sad. Mom told me lots of kids don't have a dad, so there's no reason to cry over it. Even though most of them don't have a dad because of _di-vorce_," she articulated the foreign word hesitantly, "I don't really mind. Mom's cool, she called my teacher stupid once when she found out that the other kids were teasing me for an entire term. She's got enough energy for two parents, anyway."

She paused for a moment, unsure what to say next. The awkward silence was stifling and suffocating; she had to puncture it. The fact that the man's attention seemed to have deviated completely didn't help. "That may be why my mom doesn't read me fairy tales. She told me not to believe in love or happy endings. She especially doesn't like the fairy tale in which the guy keeps giving the girl roses until she falls in love with him. I asked her about my dad once, and she said she'd tell me once I grow up." A smile flitting across her face, her eyelids fluttered shut and she tilted her head to the sky. As if moving on autopilot, she raised her arms gently, causing her to resemble a little bird. "I want to grow up now. You know that feeling, mister? That- that curiosity that just eats you up inside?"

As if to demand attention, she glanced back at the man, only to realise that he wasn't even paying attention anymore.

* * *

May stumbled out of the office, ignoring Roxanne's frantic calls for her to return. She didn't look back as the door slammed shut behind her.

_"Drew,_" she whispered, her hand absentmindedly tracing an imaginary photograph before her. She could still remember every single detail of his face, down to the very last pixel: his messy lime-green hair, always swept across his forehead in a 'cool' way and his brazen smirk and gorgeous eyebrows and the way he looked at her with those intense I-want-to-devour-you-right-now eyes that sent shivers of ecstasy down her spine-

"I loved you. Still do." Those words, laced with acerbity, had never been truer. Their love had never been like the resplendent gifts Brendan adoringly showered her with; more like a never-ending vertigo that was beautiful, yet obstinate, in its own way.

A sigh slipped from her weary lips.

"Why did you have to go?"

* * *

"But you're happy, aren't you?" he murmured quietly.

"What kind of question is that?" Rose giggled. Her tone contained the faintest traces of uncertainty. "Of course I'm happy. I think Mom is happy too. At least, that's how she acts whenever she sees her friend Brendan. Uncle Brendan is a nice guy. He takes care of us sometimes and buys me toys. How could I not be happy?"

Pain flashed in those luminescent eyes for a split second before he skillfully masked it with a brittle grin. "Of course. Hey, Rose, I think you'd better not mention me to your mother. Can you promise me you won't?" His eyes kept darting over her shoulder, and out of curiosity, she turned her head. There was her mother, standing on the steps and bidding goodbye to her friends in a way that implied that she really, really wanted to leave as soon as possible.

She turned back to the man, who was gazing at her pleadingly and anxiously now. "Promise."

A genuine beam graced his literally translucent lips as he reached down and plucked the scarlet rose off the ground, proceeding to pin it to her hair. Extending his arm, he briefly caressed her cheek, his fondness for her apparent in his affectionate stare, and then he was gone – fading away into the light.

Too late, realisation began to sink in, and she found herself surveying her surroundings accusingly, as if he was hiding in the shadows. "Mister, you never told me your name..."

"Who are you talking to, Rose?"

May Maple was striding briskly through the snow, not even stopping as she rolled her eyes at the childish actions of her friends. Admittedly, Rose had never seen fully-grown adults playing in the snow before, so it was a refreshing sight to behold. Her mother's chestnut-brown hair was the exact same shade as hers, and was swept up in a sleek, businesslike chignon. Unfortunately for her, May was currently brandishing a cherry-red coat at her, looking absolutely livid.

"Roseline Hayden, I told you not to go out without your coat! What do you have to say for yourself?" Her mother's tone crackled slightly with rage, though it mostly contained hints of concern and worry. "You've been a naughty, naughty girl, Roseline. I'll tell you about what your teacher had to say later. I must say, Rose, talking to thin air? What on earth is wrong with-" Then, abruptly, she froze, for prominently displayed on her daughter's glossy waves of chestnut-brown hair was a single rose, perfectly blood red down to the very last petal and its slick stem bare of all thorns.

Raising a trembling finger, May pointed at the offending flower, her voice involuntarily quavering as she spoke. "Who- how did you get that flower, Rose?" She could've sworn to Arceus that she hadn't pinned it to her hair before attending the meeting with the schoolteachers, nor were any of her friends highly prone to attaching flowers to children's hair. Her heart was ricocheting off the walls of her ribcage and she could feel cold beads of sweat begin to form on her forehead.

The rose was identical to the ones her late fiancé constantly plied her with.

Rose didn't answer right away, and the seven-year-old narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to come up with a reasonable answer. The older woman noticed, in exasperation, the way her child's eyes kept darting toward the left, signifying that she was undoubtedly attempting to fabricate yet another lie. From the countless times she had experienced this sort of situation, May also knew that it would be pointless to try and pressure her, so she waited as patiently as she could to hear what her girl would come up with now.

Lips tilting up in a cocky smirk, she chose the answer that she had learnt mere minutes ago. "Magic."

* * *

**Written 20 March 2013**

**Published 20 March 2013 [dA]**

**Reposted 19 June 2013 [FFN]**

**You may interpret the story however you'd like. You may choose to think that Drew died. You may choose to think that he's alive and can become invisible.**

**I know, it makes no sense. But this is an old fic, and I'm too lazy to change the concept.**

**Too lazy to cite my inspirations... Before you accuse me of plagiarism, just check my dA.**

**~TLoC**


End file.
